Tawdry Turnabouts
by VickyVicarious
Summary: A series of short, smutty fills for the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme. Containing: Edgeworth/Carrot, Phoenix/Larry, Wrightworth, Kristoph/Apollo, Phoenix/Apollo, Godot/Oldbag, and Klavier/Phoenix.
1. Long, Hard, C

A collection of fills for prompts from the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme; much like my _Tiny Turnabouts_ , in that each chapter will be short and/or silly. The main difference is that these are also smutty. So, enjoy that! I'm opening with two linked chapters, but after that each chapter should stand alone.

 **Prompt:** Edgeworth/Carrot

* * *

Perhaps if Larry hadn't eaten the banana before class, things would have been different. Perhaps Miles' tastes would have been more culinary, less sexual.

But Larry _had_ eaten the only banana, and Mr. Hibbins had been forced to borrow a carrot from the cafeteria, and young Miles had watched as his teacher smoothly demonstrated how to apply a condom to the vegetable. It had fit loosely over the thin tip of the long carrot, at first - only to stretch out as the teacher kept rolling it down, longer and longer, until soon the latex was pulled tight around the entire carrot, and Miles felt himself squirming in his seat, grateful that he was in a back row.

That was the first instance, the one that linked carrots and sexuality in Miles' mind... and for a while, for years in fact, it seemed a fairly innocent connection. He blushed at the sight of a full-sized carrot, remembering that class; but surely that was to be expected of any young hormonal boy in such a situation. And then - it was Larry again, going on about length and measuring, and Phoenix and Miles _both_ shut him down instantly, but... Miles got to thinking of carrots. Long, long orange carrots, that curved a little and felt textured against his fingers, a little rough, and so _long_...

He was curious, that was all. He decided to measure - alone, of course, blushing hard but feeling strangely determined. And then... well, he was holding a carrot in one hand and his dick in the other, because the comparison didn't really count unless he was hard, and then he lined up the carrot next to his own length and accidentally touched the side and a _shiver_ ran up his spine. The carrot was hard and rough in his hand, against his cock, and Miles was so hard, and, and... he yanked it away, a flush running up his face, but the damage was done. (He had _dreams_.)

It was harder to ignore, after that. Especially as he kept growing, and becoming more educated on sexual matters, and more convinced that he wasn't interested in girls, but a hard length not his own was something he already _knew_ he liked, so, surely, Miles thought... But kissing Phoenix 'for practice' didn't do anything for him - not like he could tell it did for his friend, who spent the next week blushing and avoiding his gaze and eventually confessing that he'd liked it a lot and he was sorry if that was weird, but he was hoping maybe -

They got through that rough patch, eventually. Their friendship was too strong to falter just because of a half-formed crush, and soon enough Phoenix was distracted by other girls and boys regardless, but Miles couldn't help feeling guilty. Maybe because while Phoenix was struggling with unrequited feelings, Miles was preoccupied with the discovery of fellatio, and spent his days thinking about licking and sucking carrots.

Still, though. It was just a - a prop, really. A replacement for the thought of another man, since he didn't have anyone in particular to think about. Miles just didn't like Phoenix that way, but that didn't mean he was oblivious to everyone of the male persuasion - ...except. He didn't like any of the boys at school, or in his neighborhood. He could acknowledge that they were attractive, in the same way he could for girls, but he didn't _feel_ any attraction.

Larry made them watch porn together 'in celebration of' his eighteenth birthday, and Miles felt nothing but bored. The next day he went shopping with his father, and had to hold the grocery bag in front of his crotch the entire time they were in front of the vegetable display.

He couldn't deny it anymore.

It wasn't that carrots were a substitute for penises. They weren't so simple as that, they weren't just dildos to use when 'real sex' wasn't available, no - carrots _were_ real to Miles. He... he _wanted_ them. Passionately, and he couldn't hold back anymore. He soon discovered that there was much to love about carrots - the way they felt in his hands, hard and rough but still a little tender if he squeezed near the tip. He loved to stroke them against himself - his lips, chin, neck, nipples, all the way down his body until he could rub the carrot against his cock, hold them both in one hand, slippery with lube, and just _slide_ them together, up and down and it never took long. He loved the way they tasted in his mouth - somehow so different in his bedroom than at the dinner table, a whole new sort of sweet with his mouth spit-sloppy and open wide, his tongue rolling along every bump and curve. He liked to scrape his teeth gently down the sides and feel the carrot flaking ever so slightly against his tongue. He liked to press it deep into his throat, to hold it there tight and resist his gag reflex as he swallowed, swallowed, tried to pull it deeper, tried to reach the base of the carrot, but he never could, they were so _long_ , god, and perfect between his lips.

Shortly after his high school graduation, Miles discovered he loved the way they felt in his ass.

He had been taking a break from carrots, for the past few months. The porn realization had come so late, he'd already been so accustomed to his habits - he masturbated with carrots almost every day, often multiple times a day. And Miles had been _scared_ , when he realized what this was, how _abnormal_ he truly was - he went cold-turkey on the carrot, cutting it out of his life entirely. For a while, he tried to be normal. If not straight, if not gay, then at _least_ not sexually interested in _vegetables_ , at least that much.

But then it was graduation day, and the valedictorian gave a speech that was all about finding and accepting your true self, and Phoenix decided to go to a law school, and Larry decided to become a taco salesman, and his father told Miles he was proud of him, he could be anything he wanted to be, and there was such a sense of _promise_ in the air, he felt so free, so really very -

He stopped by the grocery store on the way home.

And, oh, oh it was _everything_ he'd dreamed about. The carrot he'd chosen was a long one, tapered to a rounded tip at the end, wide at the base with the leaves still attached - and he felt a warm flush within him at the thought of them sticking out his ass, the rest of the carrot invisible inside him, where it _belonged_ -

It hurt, a little. Despite plenty of preparation, the carrot stretched him too far, a long slow burn as he pressed it further and further in, until he was panting and there were tears on his cheeks and _still_ , still he couldn't quite get it all the way in, it was too thick near the base and he could feel the tip deep inside him. And then he started to pull it back out, still slow, and it felt _so good_ , he was gasping and shivering and just fucking himself slow and deep on the carrot that he loved and Miles had never felt so _good_ , he came so hard all he almost blacked out.

There was no point denying it after that. Hiding it - yes, the world couldn't ever know. People wouldn't understand. But that was okay. Miles didn't _need_ understanding to be happy.

All he needed was a carrot under the sheets next to him.


	2. The Inevitable Tragedy

So I'm very proud to announce that my previous fill was the first ever Edgeworth/Carrot and actually sparked off a meme within the meme. This chapter is my only other contribution to the saga as a filler, however. For reference, it is set long after the previous chapter, and Edgeworth has grown perhaps _too_ comfortable with his sexual preferences.

 **Prompt:** Edgeworth has an orgy with an entire produce section.

 **Kink Meme Memes:** Besides the obvious Edgeworth/Carrot, the mention of a banana is a meme as on the KM Edgeworth cheated on his wife (Carrot) with a banana. Much drama. Also, the Kristoph mention is a reference to a hilarious fill from a while back.

* * *

When Miles Edgeworth woke up naked in the middle of the vegetable section of the grocery store, an entire display case's worth of sexy vegetables scattered round him - and even a few fruits, he noticed with a blush as his eyes landed on a thick banana - he wasn't especially worried.

Exhausted, sore, maybe a little wary of indulging in tequila again any time soon... but not _worried_. After all, he had his carrot clutched tightly in his hand, so it wasn't like he'd done anything to be ashamed of - his integrity was still intact. There were several containers of open lube and condoms scattered across the floor too, so he'd been perfectly safe. And he felt so sexually _satisfied_ that honestly, it was impossible to regret a thing. To be perfectly honest, the sight of all those zucchinis, cucumbers, bananas, pears, green onions, cabbages, apples, spinach, and of course, _carrots_... he could feel his breath getting short, his pulse rising, his erection coming to life again -

When the doors burst open a minute later to admit none other than Detective Gumshoe, things were admittedly a little awkward. Apparently, the security cameras had picked up him getting frisky the night before and the police had been called in. Somehow, Gumshoe managed to arrange it so that he was the only one to show up, but he had no choice except to arrest the Chief Prosecutor.

Still, Miles wasn't concerned. He paid for everything he'd touched, and arranged for it to be delivered to his home to await him after his (no doubt short) stint in the Detention Center. He had no intention of skirting the law, but... well, he still had connections.

"I'm not here to talk about your defence," Phoenix Wright said a few hours later from the other side of the glass, looking particularly uncomfortable. "I'm - I can't defend you."

"...What?" Miles said, grip tightening around the carrot in his hand. He noticed Phoenix noticing the contact; his old friend's cheeks turned fire-truck red instantly.

"I - Miles, I _saw_ the tape," Wright said, voice downright scandalized, and for the first moment since he'd woken, Miles felt embarrassed at the thought of what his old friend might have seen. "Part of it anyway, and - broccoli to tickle yourself? An apple as a gag? Wrapping spinach around - and both a banana _and_ an onion, what the hell, and I can't even talk about the CARROT-"

Oh. So he hadn't seen anything all that unusual after all.

"I CAN'T defend you," Phoenix finished, shaking his head sadly. "Actually, there's no need - the Judge has already declared a verdict. I'm just here to deliver the news. We thought... maybe I would be the best choice."

Miles' eyes narrowed. "This is an _intervention_ ," he realised. "Who else is in on this? Was Gumshoe-?"

Phoenix coughed and avoided meeting his eyes. "You're going to be going to therapy. Actually, you're going to be joining another lawyer - Kristoph Gavin, you may have heard of him and his... self-love issue."

Miles had. It had been fairly well known in the lawyer community, as had the verdict passed down on him once his obsession had grown too strong and he was found having public sex with a mirror.

His face blanched.

" _No,_ " Miles whispered. The hand round his carrot became white-knuckled as he clutched the beloved vegetable closer. "You _wouldn't_."

Phoenix sighed regretfully. "By order of the Judge... you've been placed under a restraining order from all uncut fruits and vegetables. ...Especially carrots." He nodded significantly, and Miles spun around as the guard in the corner of the room began to step forward.

" _NO_ ," he hissed viciously, stuffing his carrot into his shirt to protect it. The guard drew closer. "I can't - they're not the same cut - Wright, don't _do_ this-!"

"It's for the best, Miles," Phoenix murmured sadly, and turned away.


	3. The Things We Do For Friendship

**Prompt:** Someone does anal with Larry. Many Butz puns are made.

 **Pairing:** Platonic Phoenix/Larry

* * *

"I am seriously regretting ever telling you I'm bi," Phoenix Wright muttered, slowly scissoring his lubed-up fingers in Larry's ass. Since he was a considerate lover, his other hand was occupied in a distracting handjob for the newbie. "And admitting to finding you even just _sorta_ attractive. An-"

"Mmmm," Larry moaned, "enough talk, just hurry up. C'mon, I wanna see what all the fuss is about, get a little experience before I try to woo Kim Keyes... Ah, that glorious goddess of unconventional forms of loving!" His eyes sparkled at the thought of his latest 'love', and Phoenix couldn't help but frown and grip his old friend's cock a little firmer in retaliation. Sure, this was basically platonic sex, but that didn't mean it wasn't a little annoying when your partner so blatantly fantasized about someone else in the act.

"AND every single decision I've ever made to bring me here, I regret it _all_ ," Phoenix grumbled, removing his hand from his friend's rear to give himself a couple preparatory pumps. "...You ready?"

In response, Larry bent on the bed to shove his rear end in the air - and Phoenix's face - and dramatically proclaimed: "Been ready for ages, Nick! Just _take me_ , already! In the Butz!"

There was a moment of complete silence.

Phoenix slowly leaned his face away from Larry's ass, which he was... waggling slightly now, oh _god_.

"Are you freaking kidding me," he said. "Larry, I can _feel_ my boner dying right now."

Larry leaned his head back over his shoulder and gave a devilish (and strangely handsome? Phoenix felt his interest renewing just a little bit, and seriously he did not at all understand _why_ ) grin. "Oh, like you weren't thinking it. Now stick it in me."

He wiggled his rear again.

"...That's not even the way you pronounce your last name. Why," Phoenix sighed out as he lined himself up and slowly began to press in, keeping it shallow at first, "-why are you so-"

"Uhhhhmn," Larry said, incoherently and with an edge of discomfort.

"Seriously, is this the kind of pillow-talk you use with the ladies?" Phoenix took up the handjob again, keeping an eye on Larry's face to make sure the pleasure outweighed the pain as he began to deepen his thrusts.

"Of course not!" Larry retorted. "You think I would ever waste my real words of love on YO-ooooooh. That's, haa. That's -"

"Your prostrate, yeah. Watch out, I'll bet anything Miss Professional Dominatrix Kim's not gonna be as gentle about all this as me."

"Yeah, Butz with _her_ , pain is pleasure." Larry was thrusting back into Phoenix now, his voice breathier as his pleasure began to build.

"Are you - did you just - again?!" Annoyed, Phoenix gave an extra-hard thrust, one hand on Larry's hips pulling him back and the other giving a rough twist to his cock, a deadly combination designed to punish that stupid pun with a sharp jolt of rough pain/pleasure (like Phoenix couldn't do that too!).

It worked. Larry cried out, Phoenix grinned triumphantly, more than a little affected himself, and the pace began picking up in earnest. For a few minutes, the only sounds were the slap of flesh on flesh and harsh breathing, until-

PPPFFBBBHHHTT.

They both froze.

"Um," Larry said, in a rare display of embarrassment.

"That - that happens, sometimes," Phoenix reassured, beginning to move again. "It's not really a big deal. Don't worry about - ohmy _god_ what'sthatsmell?"

"...Well," Larry said. "You know, they say when something stinks -"

"LARRY, DON'T YOU DARE, I WILL PULL OUT RIGHT NOW."

"It's usually the Butz!"

" _I'm never having educational gay sex with you again,_ " Phoenix snarled, and kept thrusting away.


	4. Certain

**Prompt:** Phoenix cheering up Edgeworth after a bad day with some super loving funtimes with miles getting off to just how wonderful phoenix thinks he is ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Preferably around DD era just because y'know I want them to have stable lives and emotional states, them getting together before then just makes me concerned for their wellbeing lol

 **Pairing:** Wrightworth of course

* * *

Phoenix greets him at the door with a soft smile: "You did great today."

Miles stops; closes his eyes and smiles himself, though his own is more resigned than affectionate.

"So, I was that obvious," he says as he steps inside, closing the apartment door behind himself. "I had hoped to hide it better on camera, at the very least."

"Or maybe I just know you that well," Phoenix counters, a little of the sweetness in his eyes fading under that familiar competitive gleam. "Don't worry, you're not in danger of any viewers phoning in sympathy calls just yet."

Miles sighs. It comes out of his lips longer, and more tired than he intended. It's... unfortunate.

"Objection," he says mildly, in an attempt to distract from the lapse - "Is this not a 'sympathy call' itself?"

" _No_ ," Phoenix says, with a roll of his eyes, and abruptly steps in far too close, fingers reaching up to grasp lightly at Miles' jacket collar. His fingers brush warm against his neck.

"This isn't _sympathy_ ," Phoenix says, and leans in still closer. "This is me, noticing you had a bad day and telling you it's okay, because you are a good man, you did good things today, and I love you."

He finishes with a soft kiss, soft and modest and - _kind_ , Miles thinks, with that warm ache starting up in his chest at Phoenix's words, yes, his boyfriend is altogether too kind to him. He likely doesn't deserve it.

Still, his shoulders slump, his cheeks flush. Phoenix steps around him and slides the jacket off his shoulders, hanging it up for him. He slides a hand down Miles' wrist, and after a moment he relinquishes his briefcase without even a verbal protest - it's been a long day, and he is tired, that's all.

(He knows where this is leading, and he wants it too much, so very much.)

Phoenix leads the way into the kitchen, where he's clearly helped himself to Miles' groceries. He's cleaned up better than usual, but the tell-tale specks of sauce on the counter, the dishes in the sink are evidence enough that this meal was home-cooked.

The chicken is perhaps a little dry but there's sauce over it to cover that, and the rice is good, the vegetables are simple and tasty. The wine Phoenix picked out is a terrible pairing with the simple meal, but Miles doesn't mention that - instead he sips it every so often, makes sure his boyfriend notices.

Phoenix carries the weight of the conversation. This is true whenever either of them are feeling poorly, though they tend to be more evenly matched on good days. When Phoenix is upset he needs to rant to feel better, whereas Miles prefers not to say a thing if he can help it.

Miles prefers this.

After they finish eating, he asks about Trucy, but it's a mere formality and they both know it.

"She's fine, Apollo's staying over with her," Phoenix waves it off, "though to be honest she'd probably be fine on her own by now... I'll give her a call while you're in the bath."

The nostalgia and edge of sadness in his voice isn't faked, but neither is it accidental. Phoenix knows Miles likes to bathe alone, to soak away his troubles after a long day, and he knows too that Miles doesn't like to leave a guest alone for that length of time, whether they have their own key or not.

"I see through your machinations," Miles informs him flatly, but there's a fizzy-warm feeling in his stomach, and he doesn't protest any further. He goes into the bathroom and soon he's sitting in the hot bath, steam heavy in the air.

He closes his eyes and breathes in slowly, tries to let the tension of the day slip away into the water. Failing that, at least he tries to forget it - not forever, but at least for this moment. He wants to let go of the heavy weight he's been carrying, the shame that still rears its head when an interviewer mentions von Karma - and it was only in passing, the majority of the conversation was very pleasant and his reforms are being well-received. The Dark Age of the Law is almost entirely behind them now, and his own misdeeds are even further back, it's ridiculous that all it takes is one comment, one small comparison to his mentor to get him like this. If she had been pointing out a difference between them, it might have been better, but she praised his confidence and command, she _likened it to_ -

Miles dunks his head beneath the water.

-xxx-

When he emerges from the bathroom, Phoenix is already lounging on his bed. He's doing something on his phone - Tetris, Miles realizes when he steps closer and recognizes the pattern of tinny beeps. Of course. It's the only game on that dinosaur.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and watches as Phoenix finishes his game. Phoenix doesn't bother to stop or look up, but he acknowledges Miles with a nudge of his elbow. Something about that, the casual touch, the domesticity of it perhaps, squirms low in Miles' stomach.

Two minutes later, Phoenix loses the game in a rush of frantic button-pushing. He flips his phone shut and tosses it away on the bed with a groan, rolling in the same motion to press his face into Miles' shoulder.

"Uuuugh, I'm never gonna beat Trucy's highscore," he complains, and then adds: "She scolded me for calling her. Said I interrupted the rehearsal."

Miles looks down at Phoenix curled into him. He hasn't changed out of his suit yet - just taken off the jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Miles is only wearing a bathrobe, and the reversal inherent in his boyfriend being more formally dressed than he is striking. He feels like he should feel uncomfortable with it. Or rather - he _knows_ he would have felt uncomfortable with it, even just a year ago.

He reaches up with a hand to pet gently at Phoenix's hair.

"She's roped Justice into her act after all, then?"

"Yeah, 'f course," Phoenix's voice is muffled; when he talks there is a patch of warmth against Miles' shoulder through the thin fabric of his robe. "...That feels nice."

Miles presses a little harder, dragging his nails across Phoenix's scalp.

"Mmmmm," Phoenix hums, a low vibration against his collarbone. Miles takes a deep breath.

"You smell really nice, too," Phoenix says, and sits back. "What kind of soap do you use?"

"It's a rose soap, I import it fr-"

"Nevermind, nevermind," Phoenix laughs, and leans in to cut Miles off with a kiss. "I don't actually want to know. I just like the way it smells on you."

"Well," he starts, but finds he doesn't have any further response to that - he can feel his cheeks flushing, and looks away. Down at the bedspread. "...Do you want to take a bath as well?"

Phoenix laughs.

"That's not really where I was going with this, no," he says, and Miles can feel himself flushing further because he's perfectly aware of that. He has been aware, since he opened the door and saw Phoenix standing inside with that gentle smile. Maybe even sooner than that - he wasn't aware but he was _hopeful_ , even throughout his terrible afternoon, because this has happened before. This has happened often enough to trust.

(That alone is almost enough - but he won't deny the more to come.)

"You're probably filthy, aren't you," he says, and lets Phoenix tug him up fully onto the bed. Lets Phoenix run warm dry hands down his sides, fits his own palms against his lover's cheeks and leans in till their foreheads meet.

"I dare you to find out," Phoenix challenges, and the kiss this time is not gentle at all.

-xxx-

One thing in particular is different about these nights.

"Miles, yes, you're so good, you're _so good..._ "

It's not that it's absent otherwise; simply on these nights Phoenix is far more pronounced about it.

"Yeah, a little more, that's right, god I love it when you d- ahh, y-yeah do that..."

He knows. It's clear he knows, and it's equally obvious he saves up some of this just for these special occasions, waits until Miles is feeling awful to lift him up. Maybe that should be embarrassing, but it isn't. Instead, the knowledge that Phoenix _knows_ and that he uses that knowledge to do _this_ , only intensifies the warmth burning through his veins.

"S-stop, ah. M-Miles, stop or I'm done for-"

Miles presses his thumbs harder into Phoenix's hips, and swallows.

Phoenix comes with a gasp, and it's salty in his mouth, hot down his throat, and Phoenix is panting hard, flushed and grinning above him, and Miles can feel himself _trembling_.

(Anticipation.)

-xxx-

"That wasn't very nice just now," Phoenix says, and then he's leaning forward, pressing at Miles' shoulders to push him down against the bed. "I was _planning_ on fucking you tonight."

He leans down, kisses Miles hard. His tongue is warm and slick and tickles across the roof of Miles' mouth, just enough that he shudders and has to draw back, take a breath.

"Trust me though, I'm not complaining," Phoenix tells him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown out wide. "You taste like me. It's good."

He kisses Miles again. Licks into him.

"It's really good," he says, and laughs his way into a smile somehow, the hunger in his eyes muted beneath the joy. "Your blowjobs are always amazing."

"T-thanks," Miles blurts, aiming for sarcasm but overshooting into frustrated honesty. It makes Phoenix grin wider, and he ducks his face into Miles' neck, where he starts to kiss his way down.

"You're welcome," he mumbles, kissing and kissing, little ones, soft and light with his hands still holding Miles tight by the shoulders, "but I'm not done yet. There's more."

"Hah-hhhnn," Miles scoffs; it turns into a whine when Phoenix _bites_ , sudden and just sharp enough.

"That's one, that noise." Phoenix tells him, and does it again. His hands squeeze once, and then start to move: one comes up to the side of Miles' face, the other slips downwards, pinches at his nipple. Miles jolts. " _All_ the noises you make, god. I don't know why I ever thought you'd be quiet during sex, just because you aren't talking doesn't mean you don't sound _incredible_ -"

"Wright," Miles flushes, frustrated and delighted.

"That toooo," Phoenix grins against his chest; he can feel the edge of teeth. "It makes me feel like we're in court when you call me that, like the Judge is about to bang his gavel and tell us to conduct ourselves better."

"...And you _like_ that?"

For a minute, his only response is a huff of laughter, and Phoenix's tongue twirling around his other nipple. The hand against his cheek presses a little harder, Phoenix's thumb slipping into the corner of Miles' mouth.

"...Yeah, I like that," Phoenix says eventually. "I like _you_."

It's nonsensical - that almost-fantasy is still horrifying more than arousing, and in no way related to Phoenix liking him... and that too is nothing new, Phoenix _loves_ him and he knows it - but Miles feels struck by those words. He feels heat rush through him and his mouth slips open, Phoenix's thumb dipping inside just a bit.

"I don't care what the context is," Phoenix is saying, and the hand on Miles' nipple tweaks one more time before sliding down again, slowly down his side to grip at his waist. "I like you, a lot. I like your fancy car, I like your fancy suits, I like your obsession with a children's action-hero franchise..."

Miles bites down, and Phoenix jerks, hissing in pain and then laughing as he pulls his thumb out of Miles' mouth and sits up on his knees.

"You _are_ ," he grins - then slips a knee between Miles' legs and leans down just a bit, leg pressing forward... "But I love that about you, you dork."

" _Phoenix_."

"All right, all right. All right... I love your hair," Phoenix says, and reaches out to run a hand through it, warm and a little rough. "It's so soft. I love your kindness, when you're not giving amazing blowjobs."

He reaches down and grazes his fingers against Miles' cock, touching it directly for the first time tonight, though just barely. Miles can feel his muscles tensing, hips trying to lift upwards to chase the sensation, and the heat on his face sinks in deeper. His hands are twisting fists in the sheets.

"Ooh, I love that too," Phoenix mutters; this time when he reaches down, he grasps Miles firmly in his palm, but doesn't move his hand at all. The sudden heat and lack of friction is in a word _unbearable_.

"I love how much justice means to you, how dedicated you are to the truth," he says, and slowly begins to move, up and down, slowly... "I love the way you eat pizza with a knife and fork. I love that you love animals. I love your shyness, and the way you say objection, and that stupid smirk you get when you think you're winning, I love the way you choose to lose if it's right."

He's moving a little faster, now.

"I love that I can call you 'Miles' now," Phoenix says, "I love that a lot, it took so long. I love how brave you are, Miles, I don't know if I've ever said it to you but you are honestly the bravest man I've ever known. Miles, listen, okay?"

He nods. He's - he can hear himself breathing, harsh and fast, and his eyes are closed, he doesn't know when that happened, but Phoenix's hand is gripping at him just tight enough, moving just fast enough, this isn't a complicated sex act by any means but the fact that it feels this perfect is in large part because Phoenix has done it to him before. He's paid attention to what Miles likes and he's using that knowledge on him now, he's -

"Good, good, that's good," Phoenix says soothingly. "You don't have to do anything else, just listen, okay? I want you to hear this: I love that you trust me. You never stopped, even when I couldn't - I love that. I love the way you kiss. I love that you never kiss in public. I love it when you terrify the kids at the office, it's hilarious. I love - Miles, _god_ , are you crying?"

He - he is.

"I love that too," Phoenix says, voice shaking. He pulls and _twists_ , suddenly plants a hand on Miles' chest and when Miles opens his eyes it's to the blurry sight of Phoenix leaning in to kiss him.

"I love you so much, Miles, you're amazing. You're _wonderful_ , okay, you're so, so good and I love you-" Phoenix's voice is on the edge of breaking, his body is pressed down warm and comforting and his hand is still down between Miles' legs, moving, and-

And-

" _Fuck_ , that's incredible, yeah, that's so good, just let it happen, breathe, breathe... That's it..."

-xxx-

When Miles has recovered enough to breathe normally, to wipe at his wet eyes, Phoenix rolls off of him. They lie there together, staring up at the ceiling.

That was... more over the top than usual. It's almost to the point that his embarrassment matches his pleasure, except -

(He _loved_ that.)

The reporter's remark was only the tipping point to a great deal of work stress. Nothing is wrong, precisely, but it's been _difficult_ , and he didn't even realize how much he minded until this moment. He feels... for all of the joking earlier about Phoenix being filthy, or even the actual filth of his own orgasm, already cooling stickily against his skin - still, Miles feels _cleansed_ , somehow. Refreshed in a way no hot bath could ever hope to match.

"...That was good."

The words are pitifully meagre, but Miles can't be bothered to go to the effort of embarrassment, not when he knows Phoenix will understand.

(Phoenix will hear what he's really saying. Phoenix _listens_ to that.)

"Yeah!" The man in question laughs, and a hand settles into Miles' in the space between them. Their fingers lock together. "Yeah, I'd say that was pretty good."

There is a peaceful silence.

"Hmm, five minutes is enough, right?" Phoenix asks suddenly, his head popping up from the pillow. Miles' eyes shoot all the way back open. "I didn't want to say it while we were having sex, obviously, but I also really love how good you are with Trucy, by the way. Oh yeah, she told me to say hi when you were in the bath earlier."

Suddenly, the liquid cooling against his stomach feels _incredibly filthy_ once more.

"NO," Miles blurts, and jerks to his feet. "F-five minutes is _not_ enough...! Wright, you-! Ngh! Let's go shower!"

Phoenix follows him up slowly, beset by giggles. "Ooh, showering together are we? Wait, I'm not sure I'm ready yet..."

"We are going to get _clean_ , not -" Phoenix is laughing again. Miles shoves at his shoulder, ignores the grin tugging his own lips, tries not to trip on the laughter in his own voice: " _Go!_ "

They share his rose soap.

He makes Phoenix change the sheets.

And when they lie down together, this time to sleep, Miles still doesn't say the words back, but he holds Phoenix in his arms and he thinks he won't have any nightmares tonight, knows that even if he does it will be okay, _knows_ and the knowing is almost the best part of this. He doesn't have any doubts. Phoenix doesn't need him to say it back to know it's mutual. Because Phoenix knows him, just as he knows - Phoenix loves him.

It's a certainty.


	5. Reminder

**Prompt:** Apollo developing a sex addiction after Kristoph's incarceration - masturbating under the bench during trials, constantly making eyes/moves at Phoenix, riding his bike as he's stimulating himself on the bicycle seat - just him doing high-risk sexual activities then bottoming out with shame afterwards. The truth is, Kristoph DID abuse him, but also? Apollo misses it.

 **Warnings** **:** mention/some description of past rape, sex addiction, unhealthy coping methods

 **Pairings:** Kristoph/Apollo, Phoenix/Apollo

* * *

His new boss reminds him of his old.

It's nothing shallow. On surface levels, they couldn't be more different - sloppy versus clean, dark versus light, Wright versus Wrong. That's the way it is.

But at the same time, there's a card with blood on it, there's a calm smile and calculating eyes, yes, there's a hand squeezing warm and fond against the back of his neck, and - he _shudders_ -

That's the way it is.

Apollo notices Phoenix noticing him, noticing what he's doing under the desk, and his boss's eyes go cold and thoughtful; Apollo grits his teeth, presses his palm down a little harder, thinks about that bloody ace again like it's some reason this is okay.

Phoenix sends Trucy out of the office. He is all smiles, banter back and forth, hands her the shopping list and kisses her forehead before she leaves. His hand skims across her hair. He watches her go, his eyes soft and sad with love and Apollo is sitting behind the desk with his hand inside his pants, he's so wrong wrong wrong.

Phoenix shuts the door behind Trucy. He locks it.

When he turns back to Apollo his expression is calm again. Considering.

"Apollo," he says. His voice is quiet like ice. "What are you doing?"

"I," Apollo says. He's finding it hard to breathe. He stands up, fingers slipping back out of his slacks to dangle helpless against his leg, slick at the tips. "I- I'm just. Haaa. P-please."

His breathing is loud in the room. His heart is loud in his veins. Phoenix's eyes slowly slide up and down him, and Apollo feels _shaky_ just from that, molten with heat at the calm gaze before him.

He stumbles a little closer. Reaches out, grabs Phoenix's hand, (and their fingers slip a little together) says again, " _Please_."

Phoenix swallows slowly.

He gently disentangles his fingers from Apollo's, and reaches down. His fingers brush against Apollo's cock, and it jumps, and Apollo bites his lip hard, doesn't let any noise out.

Phoenix tucks him back in. Phoenix zips up his pants.

"You don't want this, Apollo," he says. His voice is calm, firm. He's telling not asking.

("You want this, Apollo," Kristoph had said, voice lilting like he was surprised, but there was a small smile on his lips and he was telling not asking, he wasn't surprised at all.)

Apollo lurches forward - again, without thought, without - he just needs to. He grabs Phoenix's hand to keep him close, even though his boss hasn't made any move to step away. He lifts it to his mouth, licks at the wet he left on the fingers. Phoenix watches him.

"Please," Apollo whispers, because he's sick, sick, sick and he can't do anything else. He lies as best he can: " _I want this_."

("I don't want this," he told himself so many times. After. Before. Sometimes during, once out loud, and Kristoph looked up at him with his lips stretched out wide around him, smiled at the lie with Apollo's cock in his mouth, and Apollo had to shut his eyes on a moan, could _hear_ the retort, telling not asking-)

"No," Phoenix says, and the look in his eyes is so coldhot at once, angry and sad in equal measure. He pulls his hand out of Apollo's a second time. Wipes the spit off on the side of his hoodie.

He reaches up to cup his hand around Apollo's neck (hand hot, grip comforting, nurturing, and something else, too-) and pulls his head down. Tucks Apollo's face into his shoulder and holds him there very still. Holds him tight enough that Apollo can't get away if he tries.

"Apollo, you don't want this," he tells doesn't ask. As sure of the answer as Kristoph always was. That same calm in his voice, that confidence and somehow kindness and somehow something else, too, and Apollo closes his eyes, he can feel himself trembling all over.

"You're right," squeezes out his throat. The words come out raw and rough, muffled into Phoenix's hoodie. "I d-don't, I. You're right."

He gives in. Lets Phoenix rewrite him, like he always let Kristoph.

Phoenix's grip tightens for a moment, warmth pressing a little deeper, lasting a little longer, maybe, hopefully enough to bruise, to keep as a reminder later. A reward for saying the right thing.

(He's awful, he's sick, how can he do this he is so _disgusting_ -)

Kristoph used to grip him tighter too.


	6. Long Long Drought

**Prompt:** Godot travels the world, providing amazing sex to those in need of it.

 **Warning:** this pairing

 **Pairing:** Godot/Wendy Oldbag

* * *

"...Well. I suppose it is time," Godot admitted. He took a deep sip from his mug, then attempted a charming grin.

"Time? Time?! It's far past time, laddie, do you know how many long years I've been neglected, left with only my poor arthritic fingers and stun gun for company? Back in my day no one would have left a lady to suffer but of course there's just no respect left, no fairness at all for the poor souls who need it most, but then no one has ever looked out for me have they, who cares about old Wendy - "

"Hush, kitte- no. I don't suppose there's any way _you_ could be called a 'kitten', is there?"

Oldbag gasped, affronted. " _How dare you_? Why, you're not a gentleman at all, even for this day and age! First you keep me waiting and then this rudeness - and that stupid mask, who do you think you are a robot? honestly you've got no sense of fashion and trust me I know what I'm talking about when I was young and beautiful I was a model at Walmart you should've seen the men lining up to get a look at me bet you wouldn't have left me for last _then_ when I was young and nubile and -"

"...Hush, grimalkin," Godot winced. He tilted his head back and gulped down the entire contents of his coffee mug. Immediately, he picked up another and chugged that too. And a third.

"Ahh," he sighed, pouring a steaming hot fourth cup. "Blend #67. Bitter enough to kill every last taste bud for at least a few days. Just what I need."

"-frankly seem like a shifty layabout to me, I don't trust your abilities, who's to say you can even get me off, eh, laddy? It's going on fifty-eight years since I managed and I doubt a whippersnapper like you could make it happen when even the thought of my Edgey-poo can't cut it-"

Cup number six smashed against the far wall.

" _Fifty-eight years?!_ " Godot exclaimed in horror. Instantly, his hands shot out. Closing around Oldbag's shoulders, he yanked her forward into a deep, passionate kiss. Her ranting, first muffled, soon turned into incoherent moaning, as her eyes fluttered shut, and soon her knees gave out altogether.

Godot smoothly caught her as she fell, hoisting her up on top of the keyboard in front of the security monitor.

"And to think, I dallied with the DeLites so long, when you were in such desperate need," Godot murmured against her lips, pressing short, apologetic kisses every few words. "That's not what I agreed to when I sold my soul."

"-y-you're a devil-worshipper?" Oldbag sighed. Her fingers were trembling as she hesitantly gripped at his arms. "I, I should've known it was too good to be true, you d-decieving wretch of a - a- ahhh..."

"Shhh, shhh," Godot soothed, sucking a kiss against her throat as practiced fingers pulled the pins out of her hair. His other hand slid down the front of her jumpsuit, dragging the zipper slowly to her waist. "No worship, grimalkin, merely a simple deal. My soul in exchange for my life and freedom - really, at the time I thought the sex requirement was just the creamer in my cup, but... well, here we are..."

His lips returned to hers for a long kiss, even as a hand slid inside her shirt and set to gently fondling a sagging breast. When he pulled his head back again, Oldbag was panting heavily, a flush running up her cheeks.

"W-watch it, youngster!" she snapped, yelping a bit as his thumb tweaked her nipple. "Are you trying to kill me! I need to breathe you know, or else my poor heart's liable to burst right in my chest, and - ahhh yes, ahhh- wh- what would you think of that, being, b-being responsible for the d-death of... of... an... inn...ocent... womaaan..."

Her head tipping back against the security monitor, for the first time in her long life Oldbag gave up on speaking altogether. Godot's ministrations moved downwards and began to involve his tastebud-less tongue.

"Ah, but what a way to go," he muttered against her stomach. "And really, after _fifty-eight years_... Poor creature."

And, with a sympathetic shudder, the attorney-turned-prosecutor-turned-convict-turned-incubus put his face between Oldbag's wrinkly thighs and went to town.


	7. A Hairy Situassion

**Prompt:** Klavier or Phoenix put one of their hair spikes in their lover's asshole. I want to see their "What the fuck are you actually doing" reaction.

 **Warnings:** this prompt, deliberate badfic

 **Pairing** **:** Klavier/Phoenix

* * *

"Ohhhh, ja, more, jajajajaja," Klavier chanted as his lover kissed and licked his hole. "I need more, fill me up-"

"As you wish," his lover responded cheekily, and then there was a strange shuffling sound on the bed behind him, of weight being redistributed. A puff of breath on his inner thigh. A sudden spike of _sensation_ -

"Ahh!" Klavier shouted, bolting upright and clutching his hands protectively around his rear end. He spun to face his lover, who was crouching shamefacedly in the space he had just vacated, head angled close to the sheets. "What the fuck are you actually doing?!"

"I... well. It's kind of obvious, isn't it?" Phoenix said, straightening up.

"Yes, the multiple spikes jabbing into my ass - and not in the good way! - made that pretty clear!" Klavier snapped. He massaged his rear between his hands. "Really, Herr Porcupine, we've talked about this. You have too many spikes. It's not going to work."

"But it feels so good when you do it to me!" Phoenix protested. "I just want to make you feel good, baby..."

Melting a little internally, Klavier finally released his cheeks in favor of reaching out and pulling his lover into a soft kiss. Drawing back, he smiled at Phoenix.

"You don't need to give me hair-sex to do that, mein heart. Just you is enough."

"Klavier... I love you."

"I love you too."

There was a schmoopy pause. Then:

"...Well, could you give _me_ hair sex, then? I'm just really feeling that tonight."

"Ja," Klavier agreed, slipping off the bed. "You lube up; I'll set the gel."

They exchanged smiles, and set to preparing.


End file.
